‘A Disabled South Park Character from 24 Years Ago Is Getting Me Harassed Today’

It’s a familiar feeling: the anger rising as I face a new round of harassment. How is it possible that after two decades, I am still dealing with this abuse?

My name is Alex. But more and more often, young people shout “Timmy” at me in the street. This isn’t a case of mistaken identity—it’s mockery, because I use a wheelchair.

Normally, I’d ignore it. But this time, I react. I turn around to see a group of teenage boys smirking at me. “I heard you,” I say calmly. “I know exactly who Timmy is.”

Timmy is a character from South Park, the dark-humoured animated show that began airing in 1997. He is disabled, uses a wheelchair, and can only shout his own name—usually loudly and uncontrollably. Although we don’t share a name, I’ve felt the shadow of Timmy follow me since childhood—whether I wanted it or not.

As South Park rose to popularity at the turn of the millennium, Timmy became part of my reality. It didn’t matter that I was a decent student with friends—wherever I went, the reference to Timmy followed me through school hallways, classrooms, and playgrounds.

Now, as I approach my 30s, the taunts have returned. For the third time this year, I hear the same familiar, brutish call: “Timmaaah,” as I roll into my local train station. A laugh. A snigger. The assumption that I won’t hear or understand.

When I confront the boys, one feigns innocence, claiming he was speaking to a friend. “You weren’t,” I reply. “I’ve been watching the show since before you were born.”

At first, I was puzzled by how Timmy’s legacy had resurfaced. After all, he was introduced to audiences 24 years ago. The answer, I realized, lies in social media, particularly TikTok. The app has revived Timmy through short, user-edited clips that feature his name as a punchline, often paired with unrelated videos of wheelchair users. These videos reinforce harmful, dehumanizing stereotypes about people with disabilities.

The irony is that, in the South Park series, Timmy is portrayed with warmth and depth. Co-creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker integrated him into the show thoughtfully, making him an equal among the other characters. While Timmy’s disability is sometimes a source of humor, it isn’t the punchline. He is a multi-dimensional character—one who faces adversity, makes friends, and even wins a battle of the bands in one episode. In that episode, “Timmy 2000,” he’s depicted as a capable, assertive person, while the adult characters react in an over-protective and condescending manner—a critique of how society often treats disabled individuals.

In fact, South Park’s portrayal of Timmy has received praise from disability advocates. Nearly 20 years ago, Timmy was voted the most popular disabled TV character in a poll conducted by Ouch!, the BBC’s disability section. Seattle Times critic Jeff Shannon described Timmy’s character as one of the “most progressive, provocative, and socially relevant disability humor ever presented on American television.”

Despite this, the TikTok trend strips Timmy of his context and meaning, reducing him to a one-dimensional joke. TikTok, with its brief, contextless clips, often turns a character meant to challenge perceptions into a tool for mocking people with disabilities. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen such a phenomenon. In the 1980s, Joey Deacon, a man with cerebral palsy, became the subject of playground mockery after an appearance on the children’s TV show Blue Peter. Kids began shouting, “Do the Joey face!” and “You’re a Joey!”

TikTok has community guidelines prohibiting hate speech and content that promotes discrimination or harm based on disability. However, when the BBC flagged videos using the Timmy sound, TikTok removed the clips but not the audio itself. This allows the harmful trend to persist. Ciaran O’Connor from the Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD) pointed out that TikTok’s content moderation practices have a “blind spot” when it comes to sounds. Even if a video is removed, the audio often remains available for others to use.

Online harassment of disabled people is widespread. A survey by the charity Scope found that 30% of disabled people had experienced bullying or trolling online. I recently encountered it again on the street when a group of teenagers mocked me by shouting, “Timmy’s going to run us over.” This abuse, though distressing, wasn’t just about the name-calling—it was the lack of remorse when I confronted them. They acted as if nothing was wrong.

This mirrors an experience shared by Ross Hovey, a wheelchair user from Liverpool, who wrote about a similar incident on LinkedIn. Ross was heading to a football match with his father and care assistant when a group of young men shouted “Timmy” at him. When he challenged them, they also claimed innocence.

This trend raises questions about the responsibility platforms like TikTok should have in educating their users. “Brief, contextless clips are what makes TikTok popular,” O’Connor explains, “but when these dynamics are used to demean or mock others, it becomes an issue.” Scope’s Alison Kerry agreed, stating that such trends can have a “real-world impact,” with disabled people facing abuse in their daily lives as a result.

For me, confronting these boys at the train station wasn’t just about defending my 30-year-old self—it was about standing up for the 12-year-old version of me, who once burst into tears at similar taunts. It was also about defending disabled children today who face the same ridicule.

As I left, one of the boys apologized. “Speak to your friends,” I said. “Maybe they’ll listen.” There’s hope yet that these attitudes can change.